Optimal Training

An interview with Michael Hillardt

Who's Michael Hillardt?  If you're a US-based, US-oriented, child of the '90s runner like me, you might not know that Michael Hillardt was Australia's most dominant middle-distance runner of the 1980s, and the 1985 World Indoor 1500m champion.  The picture at right is him leading the great Steve Ovett in 1984.

Runnerstribe recently interviewed Michael.  There are two things I think you may find particularly interesting from this interview.  First, Michael provided an extensive section of his actual training diary from 1985-1986, where he won the indoor 1500m title and ran his PR of 3:51.82 for the mile.  The training plans cover both his mid-season training in 1985 and his build-up phase before the 1986 season.  Those of you constantly in search of elite training program examples should check this out.

Second, there's one thing he had to say about his approach to training in his youth which I find to be all too common:

"I think if I had my time over again I would have seen a sports psychologist more often from a young age. I started seeing one at 26 and it really helped. However, I think seeing one from 20 would have been even more beneficial. It is an area that I think a lot of athletes don't utilise as much as they should, athletes spend all this time and energy with their training but many of them neglect the mental aspect, this is a big mistake." (italics mine)

Whether you see a sports psychologist or not, the mental aspect of one's training is just as important to strengthen and refine as the physical.  In many respects, it's what allows you to ultimately unlock your physical potential.

(photo from Runnerstribe)

Unparalleled Focus

There may be some debate as to who the greatest male distance runner of all time is, as both Haile Gebrselassie and Kenenisa Bekele have pretty impressive (and in my mind, equivalent) resumes.  But one thing is certain, Haile Gebrselassie has done much more outside of running than his countryman.

As this article illustrates, Haile Gebrselassie is far from just a distance runner these days.  He is also the head of a construction company that builds "cinemas, convention centres, petrol stations, schools, sports stores, cafes and fitness centres" as well as the Chairman of the Great Ethiopian Run, an event with over 32,000 participants.  He's also a father of three.  (You can also see some videos of Haile's daily life at the link in his name above.)

I more or less knew that, though.  Two new things struck me from this article.  First, Haile's efforts on behalf of women in Ethiopia should be praised more publicly.  I have read extensively about Haile, but didn't know about this aspect of his business.  My admiration for Haile the person continues to grow.

Second, think of the focus that Haile must apply to his daily activities in order to achieve the level of success that he's reached.  It's one thing to run a great marathon, and quite another to do so while holding down a full-time job.  I have no doubt that Haile's built a great team around him at his company.  But to be able to continually excel at his running despite the myriad distractions that inevitably arise when running a business is extraordinary.

I have long been of the opinion that the best athletes are able to excel not because of physical talent or how hard they work, but because of how focused they are when they are working hard.  Haile is a man whom one can easily see falling into the "Multi-Tasking" or "Over-Extended" categories of The Engagement Scale.  But you can tell from his performances that he never does.

He manages to stay firmly "Committed" to his running, if not "All-Consumed".  With everything else in his life, that can only be accomplished through unparalleled focus.  When he trains, he uses his time and energy as effectively and efficiently as possible.  And when he isn't training, he obviously approaches his other commitments with an equal focus.

The Engagement Scale

I have always been a baseball fan.  I played baseball for years, collected baseball cards, played fantasy baseball (even in the pre-Internet days), and vigorously debated topics like, "Was Griffey Jr. better than Bonds in their primes?" and "Was Ichiro really the MVP in 2001?" and "Is Andruw Jones the most over-rated baseball player ever?"  (For the record, my answers: Yes, No and YES!) 

More specifically, I grew up a Dodgers fan.  I went to games, watched them on TV, and even had a shirt that had cartoon images of Darryl Strawberry, Brett Butler and Eric Davis that said, "Outfield of Dreams".  Kirk Gibson's home run was a seminal moment of my childhood.  I took pride in our five consecutive rookies-of-the-year and finished every season disappointed in our lack of playoff success.

But a funny thing happened this year.  I never got into this baseball season.  I was too distracted when the season started, and that never really changed.  I didn't even know that Manny Ramirez was on the Dodgers until two weeks after the trade.  And as I watched the Phillies knock the Dodgers out of the playoffs last night, I couldn't bring myself to care.

On Engagement

You have a finite amount of time and energy to devote to your interests.  In the past, I've always devoted some percentage of my time and energy to following the Dodgers and baseball in general.  But this year, I found myself working very long hours, trying to follow the track season and maintain this blog, and spending time with my wife.  To emphasize how bad it got, I hardly even ran during this time.

And even when I did attend a baseball game or watch one on TV, it just wasn't the same.  I didn't know who all the players were, I didn't know the story-lines defining the season, and I simply didn't enjoy it as much.  It's not that the quality of the product on the field was any different.  It's that my level of engagement was different.

Engagement is the extent to which you invest your time and energy into an activity.  The level of your engagement has a direct relationship with not only how much you enjoy an activity, but how well you do at it.

The Engagement Scale

We can create an Engagement Scale spanning from "completely disengaged" to "all-consumed".  While it is no guarantee of success or enjoyment, it is also the closest thing there is to a necessary condition for either.

Here's the "Engagement Scale" as I see it. 

Completely Disengaged: These are people who are usually doing something under duress.  They aren't just not participating, they are actively not participating.  Includes students who enroll for classes but don't show up, teenagers who rebel against their parents, and when there is no election looming, the US Congress.

Majorly Distracted: These are people who have a passive interest in an activity, but for whom the priority and/or the passion just isn't there.  They at least make the effort to show up, despite the fact that they don't put any active effort in once they are there.  Think of students who attend class but spend the entire time on Facebook.  There really isn't a running equivalent, unless you count the guy who just shows up to try to hook up with someone on the girls team.

Going Through the Motions: These are people who are present, active, and when necessary, participating.  But there's no spark.  So what happens is these people do the minimum.  If you are insanely talented, you might get by doing this for a while.  But this is no recipe for success.  I see this in half the runners on any high school track or cross country team.  If you practice hard and then don't give your running another thought throughout the day, this is probably you.

Multi-Tasking: These are people who don't just do too many things, they try to do them all at the same time.  Studies have shown that multi-tasking is a myth; high performers are able to focus on one thing at a time and do it at a high level.  Multi-Taskers may be more productive or effective than those who are Going Through the Motions, but their quality suffers relative to what it could be because they aren't truly focused on what they are doing.  I'm not sure if there is a good equivalent in running, but I guess it could be someone who practices hard, but spends the entire practice thinking about schoolwork instead of their next race.

Over-Extended: These are people who simply have too much on their plates.  They go from one place to the next, always starting to prep for their next activity before their current one is finished.  They may be completely focused when they do something, but because everything they are doing is treated with equal priority, none of it is done as well as it should be.  This is the downfall of many student-athletes, who try to maintain their running, their schoolwork, their volunteering, their dating, their jobs, their nightlife, their churchlife, and their other hobbies.  At many points in my running career, this was me.

Committed: These are people who care about their performance and are willing to prioritize their lives in order to improve.  If you're talented enough and are committed for a long enough time, you can become the best in the world at what you do.  We're talking world-class athletes, 4.0 students, successful entrepreneurs and businesspeople.  From a running perspective, if you want to be successful at the collegiate level, this is the bare minimum.

All-Consumed: These people are 100% engaged in what they are doing.  They are talking about it, reading about it, thinking about it, and doing it.  They tend to not just participate, but push themselves to improve.  I think of hard-core video gamers, child prodigies, Olympic champions, and most great researchers.  As a runner, being all-consumed doesn't guarantee success.  Talent and training methods still matter, of course.  But as Kenenisa Bekele recently said when asked what athletics is to him, "It is my life."  How many runners do you know who can say that?

What it Means

If you are Committed or All-Consumed with what you are doing, you will enjoy it more and be more successful at it.  That doesn't mean you will be the most successful, or that you'll love what you do more than anyone else in the world loves it, but that you will get the most out of an activity with that level of engagement.

On the contrary, if you are Completely Disengaged or Majorly Distracted, then you not only won't be successful at what you are doing, you probably won't get any joy out of it either.  Unless you know this state is temporary, you shouldn't even invest in the activity at all, really.  You're almost worse off if you do, since you're taking time away from things you could be getting more out of.

The majority of people reading this will probably find themselves in one of the three middle categories.  If so, I have three pieces of advice for you. 

1. Figure out which of the activities you are doing you can be truly passionate about and dedicate yourself to. 
2. Decide what level of success you wish to achieve, both on a personal level and relative to your competition. 
3. Actively work to eliminate distractions and other non-priority activities from your life. 

In essence, try to get yourself Committed to the activities you are both passionate about and at which you want to excel.  My experience is that you won't miss the non-priority activities that you give up, and the success and enjoyment you experience will make it that much easier to stay Committed, too.

Knowing is no longer half the battle

Tyson Gay on the suspicion that sprinters are on drugs:

"People are going to question us because we've had athletes busted in the past. But I can't worry about it much. I know what I do. I know how I train every day, how I eat, sleep and run. I can't help what people talk about."

As an athlete, there will always be distractions.  Homework, deadlines, family responsibilities, girlfriends...  For sprinters heading to the Olympics, the performance-enhancing drugs issue will be a big distraction.

G.I. Joe cartoons used to end with the phrase "Knowing is half the battle."  (I prefer this one.)  Well, for sprinters like Gay, knowing you are clean isn't half anymore.  It's more like 10%.  The rest is convincing everyone else. 

Athletes will have to walk a fine line between ignoring the PED issue and actively working to keep their names clean.  That may mean undertaking more voluntary testing, joining groups and/or organizations committed to drug-free sports, or as Asafa Powell did recently, recommending harsher punishments for cheaters.  But athletes, and this includes Gay, will have to do something.

Perhaps in the future we will be able to beat the drug developers.  But for now, the athletes themselves will have to take the offensive with regards to PEDs.  And that's going to mean allocating time and energy to it.  In an event that is won in the hundredths (and even thousandths) of seconds, the athlete who manages this issue the best may actually have the advantage.

Dick Cavett, Bobby Fischer, and the making of a champion

I just stumbled across a NY Times blog post by Dick Cavett, the old host of 'The Dick Cavett Show', in which he laments the passing of Bobby Fischer, arguably the greatest chess player of all time.  I've always been interested in chess, though I think I peaked at age 6 when I allegedly beat my uncle in a game.  I actually don't remember that, but I'd like to think it's true.

As for Bobby Fischer, there's probably never been a more famous chess player in history (there's certainly never been a crazier famous chess player in history).  When he died on January 17th, he was known as much for being an exile and an anti-Semite than anything else, but there was a time when he was arguably America's biggest celebrity.  And he was at the height of his fame when he beat Boris Spassky to win the FIDE World Chess Championship in 1972.  Maybe Garry Kasparov reached statistically higher heights, but Bobby Fischer set the emotional standard.

The blog post is great on many levels, as it delves into the many aspects of Fischer's sad and tortuous life.  But the post--and the video of a 1971 interview embedded in it--highlight one aspect of Fischer's chess ability that I think illustrates a great and mistaken notion about "talent" and "ability", two things we often confuse.

Bobby Fischer was what we call a child prodigy.  He was the Mozart of chess.  He won the US Chess Championships when he was 13 years old!  The real question is, how did he do it? 

He obviously had talent.  But what was that talent?  Was it the ability to memorize outrageously complex positions?  Was it the ability to think 9, 10, 11 moves ahead?  Was it the ability to devise devious traps for his opponents?

No.  It wasn't.  He may have eventually been able to do those things, but those were not the talents that made him the greatest chess player ever.  His talent was his obsession.  He developed the ability to do all of the above things, but they didn't come naturally.  They were painstakingly developed through intense and focused effort.  The type of effort that most people simply can't generate.  Borderline super-human.

Cavett says it better than I do:

"We assume that geniuses are blessed creatures who don’t have to work hard to achieve their goals. Hard for us, easy for them. But Bobby as a kid — IQ pushing 200 — put in 10 to 15 hours a day of brain power and heavy concentration that would kill an ordinary person. (Or at least me.)" (italics mine)

Fischer learned to play chess when he was six.  He won the US Chess Championships at age 13.  That's about 2,000 days, multiplied by 10 hours of quality effort a day.  You know what that sounds like?  That sounds like just about how much time Mozart spent playing the clavier, or John Stuart Mill spent studying, or Tiger Woods spent golfing.  It's also about the amount of quality, focused effort-filled time that a normal expert would have spent at their hobby/occupation over 20-30 years.

Does this mean that prodigies are made, not born?  Yes and no.  Because the simple fact is you can't force a person to put in the quality of effort that Fischer put into his chess.  That type of effort has to come from somewhere inside.  It doesn't come from fear of punishment or hope of reward.  It comes from love.  Love in the form of need and at the mercy of obsession.

You can see the obsession if you watch the video.  Fischer doesn't really feel comfortable discussing how he feels about chess.  It's as if he just knows chess, not how to articulate chess.  But one thing he does articulate well is that greatness isn't all talent.  He says you need talent to be truly great (which we can take to mean his level), but he follows that by saying many of the top players aren't that talented; they've "just worked like dogs" and "they keep at it...they've got the character, they don't get distracted by other things in life until they've gotten what they wanted out of it."  Their ability is a product of the quality of their efforts.  He also alludes to this understanding of ability when asked if he's very athletic.  His response: "Well, I haven't really developed myself too much in sports."  Translation: No, but it's only for lack of effort.

I don't know what caused Bobby Fischer to slowly come unhinged.  I don't know what caused him to isolate himself from the world and I don't know what drove him to despise Jews and America.  But I do think I know what made him into a child prodigy and a World Chess Champion.  He believed his effort would improve his ability.  And then he worked longer, harder, and with a higher level of quality than any of his competitors.  (Harder than anyone, at anything, ever?)  You can call it talent or effort, motivation or love or obsession.  Whatever you call it, it's what makes you a champion.

What is the common variable?

Here's an interesting (and short) video of Bob Kennedy on Flotrack answering the question, "When you look at top athletes...what is the common variable?"  He gives two answers, and both are spot on.

Are you done watching it?  Good.  Before we go on, I want to point out what wasn't said.  He didn't say they had more talent.  He didn't say it was genetics.  He didn't talk about the sophistication of their training methods.  He didn't talk about the quality of the coaching or their family support or their having more "desire".  He does say two things, though, and they are actually related.

His first answer is that they have fewer mental barriers.  So what does that mean?  Sometimes a mental barrier can be a time (he mentions 13:00, a reference to the "barrier" he finally broke through in the 5000 meters).  But it can also be a competitor (I can never beat that guy!), a superstition (oh man, I forgot my lucky water bottle!), or a lifestyle "need" (I would train more, but a guy's gotta work, y'know?).  And of course there are numerous others, I'm sure.

The interesting thing about all these barriers is how huge they seem to people who can't get past them, and how trivial they become once someone has.  I always think it's funny to hear about Roger Bannister suffering something along the lines of emotional exhaustion from the pursuit of the 4 minute mile, a time it was thought impossible to for a human being to run!  Yet immediately after he broke the barrier, many other runners did, too.  Now, runners who run the same time as Bannister are merely "very good". 

Sure, the 4 minute "barrier" is still real for many runners, but it's not nearly as high as it once was.  You could almost say it's more of a large stepping stone, now.  That's why Kennedy's second answer is actually so much better in my opinion.  He says runners aren't willing to turn their lives upside down in the pursuit of their training.  They are unwilling to take some (necessary?) big risks.

It's very true.  Most runners have a mental barrier in exactly this area.  They can't imagine doing it differently, training somewhere else with someone else and so they settle.  This isn't to say every athlete who sticks with his college coach is settling (Alan Webb just broke the mile with his high school coach, after all).  It's just to say it's a barrier that many athletes aren't even aware of.  It's a barrier that arises out of good intentions, even, whether it be loyalty, friendship, companionship, etc.

Barriers, for me, are a huge aspect of a person's self-efficacy, which I've talked about before.  Self-efficacy is the belief in what you can do given the effort you put into something.  One way to improve your self-efficacy is to experience success.  Another is to have someone tell you that you can do it.  But a third way applies even more in this case, I think.  It is when you see someone you relate to break the barrier.  It's when you effectively say, "Shoot, if he can do it so can I."  It's when barriers the size of walls are reduced to stepping stones.  We could call this the Roger Bannister Effect.

So here's the thing.  Barriers are effectively mental roadblocks.  Not only do they keep you doing what you are doing, but if they are tall enough, they keep you from even imagining being on another path.

I don't know all the reasons why Africa's elite runners seem to have so effectively removed mental barriers from their training.  But I suspect it has a lot to do with the Roger Bannister Effect.  Over the years, they've seen their countrymen--people just like them--break down barriers and they've gotten a glimpse of what it's like over there and what they need to do to get there. 

Perhaps our American distance runners' biggest barrier is their inability to equate themselves equally with their African counterparts.

--Tip to Peter at Runner's World for the link to the video.

The Dip

I just finished reading Seth Godin's new book, The Dip.  It's a book that fundamentally questions the idea that quitters never win and winners never quit.  In fact, he argues, winners quit all the time.  What?  How's that?  Read on.

What's the gist of the new book?  Why was it written?

The subtitle of the book says it all: "a little book that teaches you when to quit (and when to stick)."  The book articulates the Dip--that period of time when you have to choose to be the best or to to be average--and illustrates why it matters that you both recognize the Dip for what it is and make the right decision whether to continue what you're doing or pursue something else.

It's not a running book.  It's ostensibly a business book, but it's really somewhere in the personal motivation genre because the message doesn't apply to just business.  It applies to every aspect of our lives.  As Seth says:

"If I could offer just one piece of inspiration, it's this: The Dip is the reason you're here.  Whether you're lifting weights or negotiating a sale or applying for a job or lunging for a tennis ball, you've made a huge investment.  You've invested time and money and effort to get to this moment.  You've acquired the equipment and the education and the reputation...all so you can confront this Dip, right now.

The Dip is the reason you're here.

It's not enough to survive your way through this Dip.  You get what you deserve when you embrace the Dip and treat it like the opportunity that it really is."

The point of the book is to make you think twice about where and how you are spending your time and energy (and money).

How does this book relate to excellence?

At first glance, the book may appear to be about quitting, but it's not.  It's 100% about excellence, and the strategic role that quitting plays in achieving it.  To be great at something, to be the best, you have to devote yourself to it.  And that requires making priorities, making sacrifices, and often it means quitting something you'll never be more than "good" at.

Being a business book, Seth writes primarily about "norm-referenced excellence".  Being the best matters because the best gets more money.  But the Dip applies to the pursuit of "self-referenced excellence" too.  (Don't know what I'm talking about?  Read this.)  If you want to be the best runner in the world, well, there's quite a Dip you'll have to overcome.  Quite frankly, it doesn't make much sense for most people to pursue that goal.  The Dip is too large.  (Which is exactly Seth's point.) 

But here's where I differ with Seth.  He doesn't believe the Dip applies to hobbies, things you do just because you enjoy them.  I disagree.  Understanding the Dip in these contexts is equally important.  If you want to be your best at something, sooner or later you're going to hit the Dip and you're going to have to decide whether pushing through it has value for you.  The question is whether that value is greater than you'd get from pursuing other options.

Personally, I think pushing through any Dip is valuable.  Recognizing and overcoming Dips gets easier with experience.  Say you push through the Dip when you are a 16 year-old trying to learn Spanish.  The next time you have to push through a Dip, whether it be in business, sports, or school, you'll be that much more likely to succeed.  Having done it once, you can transfer that experience to your next challenge.  Even if you never become the best Spanish translator in the world, your approach to studying Spanish might help to make you the best at something else later.

How does this book relate to running?

This book has everything to do with running, whether you are a world-class athlete pursuing a place in the record books or a first year runner trying to make the varsity team.  At some point, you will face the Dip.  And how you respond will determine how well you end up doing.

I can think of two running related Dips that stand out in my own personal life.  The first was in high school, when I became the Editor-in-Chief of the yearbook.  I wanted to make the best book the school had ever seen.  But to do so required a ton of time and energy.  And this was a Dip with a time constraint: I only had eight months.  Keep in mind, at this time I was the top runner in my region and looking at potential colleges, etc.

My choice: I sacrificed my classwork and running--not to the point of quitting them completely, however--and made the decision to prioritize the book.  The result: my running suffered, my grades slipped, but the book was awesome.  And I learned a ton about what I was capable of doing if I put my mind to it.

Second, before my junior year in college, I made the decision to be the best runner I could be.  To not just run, but to really go for it.  So I made running my top priority on a seven-week trip throughout Europe.  I stopped going out to the bars with teammates and friends.  I didn't date, didn't party, didn't work more than enough to get by.  I started reading more, stretching more, doing more sit-ups and push-ups, sleeping more, etc.  The end result: huge personal records in every event, I qualified for NCAAs in cross country, and I became one of the top runners in the PAC-10.

Interestingly, I can look at my frustrating senior season through the lens of The Dip as well.  Rather than continuing to "lean into it", I got complacent.  I didn't work as hard on the little things, didn't pursue it with the single-minded obsession that I had the previous year.  And the results showed.  I was less consistent, less motivated, and less successful.

Anything else interesting?

Absolutely.  There are lots of little riffs and anecdotes throughout the book.  And like most great ideas, this one spans a number of different areas.  Not only will you be given a new lens through which to analyze your running, but you'll learn other interesting stuff, too, like:

• The Eight Dip Curves
• What a Cul-de-Sac and Cliff are and why you should avoid them
• Why average is for losers
• Why the opposite of quitting isn't "waiting around"
• 3 Questions to ask before Quitting
• And even a running anecdote or two.

How would I rate this book?

I give it a 4 out of 5.  First, it really is "a little book".  It's only got about 80 pages.  That so much insight is crammed into those pages is incredible.  But I'd have loved a slightly wider variety of stories, with more detail.  I certainly left understanding the gist of the book, but not understanding how to actually apply the ideas to make decisions in my own circumstances.  I know to be looking out for the Dip, Cliffs, and Cul-de-Sacs, but how to actually tell which one is which is still vague.

Still, the book covers a topic that in many respects seems to me to be both universal and universally misunderstood.  Most of the institutions in our society seem to reward conformity and well-roundedness.  But that's just an illusion.  Real success comes from being exceptional.  And being exceptional requires people to push through the Dip.  Reading this book will help you to better understand what it is you're trying to accomplish, why it is you're trying to accomplish it, and whether or not you should even pursue that goal in the first place.

It's a great springboard to a necessary discussion.  I recommend it.

It's Not Too Late

I just got off the phone with my wife, and I was more than a little peeved.  She has an assessment for a possible promotion today, and she hasn't been studying enough for it. 

There's no one reason why.  She's been busy with other things.  She's been lazy.  She lost her study materials when her baggage was lost by Alaska Airlines.  Etcetera etcetera.  I also think she secretly doesn't want to be promoted, because the job will take her away from dealing with passengers (something she loves) and put her in a position where she won't deal with passengers.

All of these reasons have contributed to her not being as ready as she should be for this assessment.  But what peeved me was that, despite still having four hours and study materials available to her online, she felt it was "too late."  My response: Chigaimasu.  (Translation: Uh, no.)

Whether she doesn't want the promotion or she's just resigned herself to not getting it doesn't matter.  She will be assessed today, and she will be evaluated based on that assessment.  And she won't be as ready as she could have been.

Even if you are in a less than ideal position you should still be taking every opportunity to be as prepared as you can be given your circumstances.  This goes for work assessments, school tests, international negotiations and dual meet two-mile races.  "It's too late" is saying that preparation is an all or nothing thing.  It isn't.

There is a bigger picture aspect to this as well.  Will three hours of studying make a difference?  Maybe not.  Probably not.  I have no idea.  But it's never too late to start developing a good habit.  It's never too late to say, "I'm going to get the most out of this that I can."  It's never too late to begin developing an Optimal Training approach. 

You may not see the effects today, but you will see them later.  Champions know this.  People who achieve excellence don't worry about the end result so much as how they approach the challenge.  They focus on using their time and energy as well as they can, and they evaluate their performance on that criteria.

--------------------------

**Update: She did study a little.  And I learned something, too.  Did you know Drambuie is a honey and herb-flavored golden scotch whiskey liqueur?  You did?  Well whoopty-frickin-doo!**

Two Precious Commodities

I wondered what the first post should be for this blog, and this Easter I got some inspiration.  Let me tell you about my grandma.

My grandma receives 200 pieces of mail each week, 90% of which is asking for money.  She's particularly bad at dealing with this, because she sends people money (who then sell her name to everyone else under the sun) and because she feels the need to give each letter its due.  To say the mail piles up would be an understatement.

Why do I bring this up?  Because she's got no handle on it and it takes up a huge amount of her time and energy.  Our time and our energy are our two most precious commodities.  We waste them at our own peril.  And it's particularly difficult to deal with the realization that something we don't like is slowly stealing our time and energy.  My grandma isn't happy about her mail, but she also hasn't dealt with it.

Until now.  (I hope.)  I created a plan for her to use to gain control of the situation, and though it's surely a work in progress, it's at least a start.  And this is what I want to really stress here.  You don't need a perfect plan. You just need to start. 

This is a blog about running and training.  Well, training takes A LOT of time and energy.  And it has to happen within the context of all your other responsibilities, be they work, school, family, charity-work, blog-writing, or dealing with junk mail.  Every athlete (see also: you) needs to make a decision about how much time and energy they have to devote to their training.  Then you need to start eliminating anything that interferes with the optimal use of your time and energy.  And you need to start doing what you really want to do.

I made a decision to run the Rock 'n Roll marathon last year.  I also made the decision that school was more important to me.  So I chose to devote one hour in the morning to running, and 15 minutes before bed to push-ups and sit-ups.  That's it, aside from some stretching as I went about my day.  By making this decision, I was then able to decide how best to maximize my energy within the time I alotted for myself.  I stuck to the plan for five months (giving myself two hours some Sundays for long runs) and the end result was a 2:39.  Is that as fast as I'm capable of running?  No.  Am I happy with it?  Heck yes.  Because I got a lot out of those hours I spent running.

Everything you do is the result of a choice, whether it is made explicitly or not.  Think about how you want to spend your time and energy, and then develop a system within which you can make the right choices.  This isn't easy, but it is necessary. 

(And if you have the opportunity, it feels good to help a loved one do the same.  We'll lick this junk mail problem yet, grandma!)